


scuff up puppy

by kanxie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dogs, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Living Together, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Minor Animal Injury, Non-Explicit Sex, Sakusa Kiyoomi has OCD, Timeskip, UshiSaku's Love Language, light humor, sakusa and atsumu are besties but refuse to acknowledge it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:14:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27718702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanxie/pseuds/kanxie
Summary: “I will support you with anything you are going through.”“Even homicide?”
Relationships: Sakusa Kiyoomi/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 20
Kudos: 84





	scuff up puppy

“Who you textin’?” 

Of course. Nothing like the bane of his existence to pair delightfully well with his burnt coffee. Wakatoshi had been trying to get a hang of the French press but the results were grim. Sakusa’s perpetual resting bitch face made it so Wakatoshi hadn’t noticed his distaste. 

He could grimace freely now, though, under the wash-out lights of the Black Jackals’ gym. 

“Fuck yourself, Miya.”

“C’mon!” The voice whines and it’s like nails on a chalkboard. It’s the same level of annoyance as a baby crying somewhere in the apartment below you and you have no idea which section of the floor to stomp on in protest of the noise. It’s like Miya Atsumu, the thorn in his side. Not his best friend, never that. 

A stray ball flies over and knocks the coffee right out of his hand and into Miya’s lap. He mourns its loss, but at least it served a purpose. 

**Kiyoomi** 8:40

Thank you. 

**Wakatoshi** 8:40

? 

**Kiyoomi** 3:23

Don't worry about it. 

  
  


▪️▪️▪️

“I am certain that I will get the hang of this soon. It is important to consistently challenge the mind with new tools and hobbies.”

“You sound like a yoga advice page. The last time you had a hobby, it was volleyball. Now it’s your career. Don’t you see the benefit to sticking to things you know?” 

“You should develop a better hobby than being mean, Kiyoomi. I can see countless benefits to frowning less.”

“You love this frown.”

“Yes. I do.” 

▪️▪️▪️

He’s on his phone again and it makes him feel three decades older. He can’t understand where the photo album is. Someone just told him there’s an app for it, but his phone doesn’t have any labels. He doesn’t know how to fix that either. So he glares at the plastic thing, willing it to speak. 

“Siri.” 

…

“Siri.” 

… 

“Siri.”

…

“S- Get. Off me.” 

Miya doesn’t move his arm from where it’s hung over Sakusa’s shoulders, much too casual. He can smell a horrid mix of Miya’s body odor and drugstore deodorant. He smells like Man, and not in the good way Wakatoshi smells like Man. It’s like comparing puppies to wolves. 

“You’re about as dumb as they come, Omi-kun. Don’t you worry, won’t tell anyone. Scout’s honor.” He uses his thumb and index finger to zip his lips shut and then immediately uses the same hand to grab Sakusa’s phone. 

The horror. Oh my God. He’s not sure he’ll make it out of this changing room. He does a mental count of the sanitizing instruments in the surrounding twenty meters, like a spy looking for an exit. 

“What can I help you with?” A robotic lady questions. It’s coming from his phone. Siri was there all along. 

“How.” 

Miya snorts and tosses the thing back at him, giving him no other choice but to try to catch it with a makeshift net, pulling the bottom of his tee shirt up and out. He misses and it clacks on the floor. Sakusa uses his socked foot to turn it over, and yeah, it’s broken. 

“You press and hold the home button.” Miya shrugs and gets up, leaving the room. 

There are endless ways Sakusa could kill a man, but he doesn’t think he has the time in between now and when Wakatoshi scheduled their dinner date. With a long-suffering sigh, he walks over to the showers. 

▪️▪️▪️

Tokyo is home to many bizarre things, all familiar to a native-born like Sakusa. Wakatoshi, on the other hand, is quite charmed by the flashing lights and whirring gizmos. He comes from a city with, like, only a million people, give him a break. They probably still bathe in wooden baths over there. Wakatoshi says he went to a state-of-the-art high school, but Sakusa is convinced it’s a lie. 

They’re sitting at an Italian-Asian fusion restaurant, with bowls of “pasta” in front of them. He says “pasta” because to him, it looks like ramen noodles from a _konbini_ with oddly thick sauce and meatballs on top of it. Food texture is a tossup for Sakusa, so he approaches it with caution.

Unlike Wakatoshi, who eats like a bear. It’s almost gross. Not entirely, because that’s the love of his life shoveling “pasta” into his mouth, but it’s toeing the line. At least he chews with his mouth closed; Sakusa isn’t sure they could last without that.

By the time he has meticulously cut through a test-run meatball to make sure there weren’t any hidden surprises like cheese or something equally as revolting, Wakatoshi is halfway done with his bowl, pausing to sip the wine he ordered. 

He ordered a bottle because he knows Sakusa likes to be able to pour his drinks himself. It was nice to not have to remind Wakatoshi of these things. 

It is several hours before dinner is over. For every bite, Sakusua has to wait and see if he feels sick. His partner doesn’t mind the wait. Instead of watching, though, he walks around the restaurant several times to aid his digestion. Sakusa sees him knock the same man’s jacket off the back of the chair for the third time. He sighs into his wine glass and waves the waiter over for the bill. 

As Wakatoshi is about to start his fourth lap, he grabs the sleeve of his blazer and anchors him to their table. 

“No more. That man is about to deck you.” 

“Is he? Well, it isn’t my fault. He should hang his jacket up on the allotted racks.”

“That’s what I thought, too.” 

▪️▪️▪️

Sometimes, Sakusa likes to slap things. It probably comes from spiking a volleyball and receiving happy brain chemicals for it. Curse his brain for making pathways he didn’t ask for. 

Regardless, he likes to slap things. If he asks, and they both want it, Wakatoshi will kneel at his feet and let Sakusa slap him across the face. They do that, and then fuck, and none of it is a problem. It’s actually nice.

It sucks, though, when he wants to slap things and his partner isn’t there to help him through it. 

“Sakusa, Sakusa, Sakusa, Sakusa, Sakusa, Saku-” 

“What.” The man in question forces out, past the burr of negativity in his throat and through the thin layer of his mask. 

“Come out with us tonight!” Bokuto is smart enough to keep his physical distance, but he makes up for it with the incessant chatter and _noise._ Oh my God, the noise. He yearns for the sweet silence of his and Wakatoshi’s condo and the way its walls absorb most noise. They spent so, so much money on it, just to be using it during the off-season, but it was worth it. Miya came over once and said it made him feel like he was in solitary confinement. Good, because it meant he never wanted to come over again.

He wasn't there right now, because he had to come into Osaka for a mandatory meeting with the team. He wanted to be in and out, nothing seen nor heard.

“I would rather be stuck in the subway during a tsunami than go ‘out’ with you and the people you associate yourself with. Have a pleasant night.” 

Bokuto continues to walk circles around him, jogging backwards so they can still face each other. Sakusa considers pushing him, just to see how shocked he would be. They’re in the parking lot, though, and he doesn’t want to risk a spiker’s hand getting torn up on the concrete.

“That sounds like fun! I’ve never done that, but I bet I could swim the whole length of the train. Akaashi told me—”

“Goodnight, Bokuto-san.” His car door unlocks.

“Well, yes, good guess, he has said that before, but—” 

Bokuto smiles at him half confused as he drives away, head cocked to the side. Good riddance.

▪️▪️▪️

The place is silent when he gets home. Wakatoshi is already watching his self-help videos with his headphones on, even though he doesn’t like wearing them. Sakusa realized some time ago that he would only put them on in accordance with when Sakusa was scheduled to come back home so he wouldn't be annoyed by the noise.

Neither of them open their mouths until Sakusa has showered and changed and brushed his teeth and can breathe better. When he walks back into the living room, Wakatoshi has the headphones resting around his neck.

“Hello, Kiyoomi.”

“Hello, Wakatoshi.” 

“Would you like to watch with me?” He pats the couch beside him. The soft fur blanket over his massive shoulders. Sakusa grabs a glass of water and climbs into the cocoon. They are two bulking, gigantic men, but they bought an extra big sofa just for that reason. 

“What’s on the menu today?” 

“I thought to start with this,” Wakatoshi explains, thumbing through his YouTube playlist of the day. He points to a video on curly hair care. There are a few other videos in the queue, “Then maybe finish off with this.” It’s a video on how to bathe a small dog.

“You better not be insinuating anything with that last video.” 

Wakatoshi turns to him, instructional videos forgotten for a moment, “You do not want a dog with me, I take it.” 

Sakusa crosses his arms and tries to squeeze out extra negative energy from his orifices to counterattack the way he got a little bit excited at the mention of it.

“I do.”

“Well, let’s get one.”

“How.”

“The store, I imagine.” Yum. He loves when Wakatoshi gets dry with him, it makes him tingle. 

“I love you.” 

“Yes, and I love you. Are we getting a dog? I haven’t watched any videos on dogs yet. I was going to start the series with you. I thought it would have taken several parts to convince you.” 

He hates being known. “Never mind, I don’t want one.” 

There’s a small quirk to Wakatoshi’s straight line of a mouth. Disgusting creature. Sakusa kisses it off, just to see it go away. Among other things. 

▪️▪️▪️

The dog is very small. Too small. It is supposed to grow, but neither of them can quite understand how this thing that he holds with one hand, could grow big enough to attack a grown man. It’s not as small as the toy-dogs at the shelter, but it’s close.

Their condo has a balcony big enough for a substantial patch of fake grass. Wakatoshi offers to deal with that, and also to feed the dog. To bathe it, too, but Sakusa still watches all these things from the side so he can look like he’s helping. They go on morning runs with it, but half the time one of them ends up picking it up for fear of a freak accident. Maybe his overthinking is rubbing off on Wakatoshi. 

Like, what if the dog is running with us and then trips on its leash and now Sakusa is also face down on the sidewalk because he was the one holding the leash? Perfectly reasonable worry, both of them agree. The pavement touching his face is too much to risk. 

▪️▪️▪️

Sakusa is searching something up on Wakatoshi’s phone. He notices the open tabs.

_Can dogs eat boba pearls?_

_Can dogs play sports?_

_Dog playing volleyball_

_Dog+volleyball+playing+the dog is playing_

_Dog MSBY jerse_

_Dog MSBY jersey_

Amazing. He loves this man. He needs to kiss him right the Hell now.

▪️▪️▪️

"I'm thinking of going vegan." 

They're stopped in front of a health food store. These have been popping up all over the city, taking over local grocery stores and other cheaper alternatives. Normally, a person like Sakusa would appreciate the change, but he can't justify the price for the horrible taste of gluten free food. The gluten is supposed to be there, that's the whole point.

"You can't sustain a professional sports career on a diet of leaves and nuts." 

He tries to pull Wakatoshi along, tries to convince him to continue their evening walk. The dog is with them anyway and would probably get stolen if they went in. Wakatoshi wants to go in and Sakusa can't just be expected to _stay outside_ where the sidewalk is so busy, he's starting to get anxious.

"I watched a video—” 

"Yes, of course you did. But, the vegans are lying to you. Cauliflower chicken will never taste the same as chicken." 

Wakatoshi considers this for a moment. Sakusa seethes with the way it takes almost three seconds for him to say, "Okay. I trust your judgement."

They continue walking. He mumbles, "You'd fall for fewer scams if you believed me more often."

They're in the home stretch. The condo doors are an oasis. Sakusa looks around for any imminent threats; they're safe. The dog gets picked up just in case. 

"You know I'm still getting routine spam calls from— Ah!" 

A bike whizzes by them and through the puddle in the crook of the road. He sees it all in slow motion: 

The biker, apathetic;

The slush, coming towards him;

The dog, barking. 

The dirty city filth never meets him, though, because Wakatoshi's reflexes are nothing if not world-class. He accepts the muddy water with his brick shithouse body and Sakusa cowers behind him like a damsel in distress. 

Everything goes back to normal speed and the dog is still barking. It doesn't have the right to be more stressed than Sakusa is right now. Does his dog have OCD now, too? 

His coat is soaked and disgusting. Sakusa quickly looks away to quell the nausea in his stomach. "I will go to the condo first, clean myself, clean the area. I will text you when I am done. Take the dog to the building's dog park." 

Oh, cool. Wakatoshi can think so he doesn't have to. What a great guy. Sakusa hates him significantly less than he does anyone else. He'll buy them something from a vegan restaurant tonight as a peace offering.

▪️▪️▪️

Miya has been speaking at him for over ten minutes straight now. It’s close to a personal record. Sakusa hasn’t had to say a single thing, hasn’t had to give any signs of hearing any of the words being thrown at him. 

They’re in a park drinking bubble tea. Their teammates are throwing the Frisbee around even though they have to run through snow to catch it. It looks unnecessarily exhausting. 

“—So then I told her _again_ that I’m not the one who forgot to wear a jacket, I told her it was gonna be cold, chick thought I’d give her my jacket, but the fuck do I look like freezing my ass off in the middle of a hike up a mountain? Honestly, Omi, I think she was tryna kill me. What would you have done?” 

“Wasn’t listening.” 

Miya cackles and then takes a sip of his drink, speaking up again before he has swallowed all the pearls. He sounds like he’s speaking through a mouth of toothpaste, “Yeah, had a feeling. Anyway that’s my week. What have you an’ Ushiwaka been up to?” 

He debates revealing something about himself. He doesn’t think it has any blackmail potential, but Miya is the type to find something out of anything. Miya loves making fun of people.

“We got a dog.” 

The responding shriek is loud enough to call everyone over, and now they’re all hovered over Sakusa’s shoulders, demanding answers to such an innocuous topic.

“How long have you had it?” Miya asks. 

“Three weeks.”

“What’s its name?” Bokuto asks.

“We haven’t named it.”

“You’ve had it for three weeks and haven’t named it yet? Brutal.” Miya chuckles.

“There’s no point in naming it. It doesn’t speak Japanese.”

“Shouldn’t it be more, like, special? Like, you’re calling it “it”. What the Hell, Sakusa-san?” Inunaki demands, hands smacking the picnic table in shock. 

“Why the fuck does it need a name?” 

“At least tell us the gender!” Bokuto pouts. 

Wakatoshi doesn’t care about the name or the gender of the dog, and the dog still receives endless love and care from both of them. Well, less so Sakusa, but still. Maybe he and Wakatoshi really were meant to be; Bokuto looks like he’s about to cry over a dog he hasn’t even seen. Ugh. He could never deal with that.

▪️▪️▪️

“No one gets me like you do, ’Toshi.” 

They’re lying in bed. Sakusa has been counting the lines on the ceiling to calm down. Every time he gets to forty-five, he feels the overwhelming urge to start over. He skips the number sixteen because that’s a bad number. 

Wakatoshi lowers his reading glasses and puts down his book. It's a paperback romance novel that's been gripping his attention for two weeks now. 

“The same goes for you. I have never felt such comfort in my life. I appreciate you being here next to me.” 

This is true, actually, but if anyone other than Sakusa heard that, they’d think it had been pulled from a dating advice column. But Sakusa _knows_ his partner, knows that Wakatoshi used to find emotions childish, but now loves to express himself any way he can for Sakusa. It’s a little stunted, but they both are. He likes it better that way.

“Yeah, that. But really. Did you know my co-workers nearly threw a fit today because we haven’t named our dog yet?”

Wakatoshi hums, “It doesn’t need a name. It hasn’t done anything to deserve its namesake yet. It is only a baby; it hasn’t reached its potential.”

Sakusa turns over on his stomach, propping up on his elbows. He nods, then looks up at Wakatoshi, “That’s exactly what I thought. They got mad at me for not saying its gender. How is that important?” 

“I do not know. I guess you could call that ‘asking the wrong person’.” 

“Makes sense. Okay, goodnight.” Sakusa lays back down and brings the covers up. 

“Goodnight.” 

▪️▪️▪️

“My dog died.” He says. For fun, because he wants someone to cry. He wants Bokuto off his game at practice so that Meian will yell at him, and then Miya will be upset that no one is paying attention to him. He wants to watch the chaos from the sidelines, and then have an excuse to complain about something.

Bokuto falls to his knees mid-jump.

▪️▪️▪️

It’s a work event. Sakusa is a very professional person and he likes to dress up, so he doesn’t mind going to these things. They aren’t terribly crowded, usually held in a large banquet hall. Wakatoshi and him tied each other's ties, kissed once, and then left the condo in separate rides. Something, something, raising suspicion, homophobia, all that nonsense that Sakusa doesn’t usually entertain, but knows it’s best for their careers if they don’t show up as a pair. 

He flashes his ID, parks underground, leaves his coat in the car and takes the stairs up to the main floor. There are enough people he knows here, enough places where he can hide away and take a breather. 

His eyes spot Wakatoshi first, with superhuman accuracy. He’s talking to a man and woman, both dressed in business suits. It looks like they’re giving him an offer, an elevator pitch. How horribly unprofessional. 

He sees his cousin next, sitting on a couch, drinking whatever is in his cup way too fast. Oh well, he’ll have to do as his social anchor for the night.

“Moto-san.” Motoya springs up and off the couch, jostling the clear liquid. It splashes a bit on his dress shirt. Sakusa turns his nose up at the gross behavior. 

“Oh! Kiyoomi,” He regards him before turning to the people on the opposite couch. Sakusa hadn’t even noticed them. “Sorry. I’ll be going now.” He bows.

They arrive at the bar by expertly speeding through and dodging the crowd. Sakusa wipes the barstools clean before sitting down. He wraps the wipe in a napkin from the holder. He grabs another napkin and gives it to Motoya to dab the sweat off his forehead.

“They were totally questioning me back there. Super intense! Asking me if I wanted to come to America to play. Why would I ever want to go to America?” 

Sakusa orders a lemon sour and asks for it to be prepared in front of him. The bartender nods, says nothing. 

“Opportunities.”

“Yeah, but not as good as what I heard being offered to other people. I was listening to someone hint at Ojiro-san about playing in Italy! Why can’t I go to Italy?” 

Is everyone at this event here just to make and take business offers? He hopes no one is scamming Wakatoshi right now, but it is very likely. If he could, he’d go help him. 

Instead, he settles down and lets his ear be talked off. Logically, he should only attract other quiet-mannered people, but it seems like Wakatoshi is the only one of the sort in their circles. Akaashi is another—Sakusa can see him and Bokuto arm-in-arm on the other side of the room—but, if he’s with Bokuto, there has to be something fundamentally wrong with him. Sakusa doesn’t want to know.

They waste a solid hour at the bar. Some people they know come over for small talk. Motoya occasionally gets up and grabs more snacks. He never offers them to Sakusa, because he knows the answer. Wakatoshi and him had dinner together earlier, anyway. 

“Alright. That was a nice catch up. I’m going to stand in the middle of the room and wait for someone to engage in networking with me. Goodbye, Moto-san. Tell oba-san I say hello” 

It’s not like he doesn’t want to play for other teams. He has received countless offers for places around the world. MSBY raises his salary at the end of every season as a means to keep him, which is a nice bonus. But really, the thing that keeps him here is much more sinister, much more haunting. The real reason is that he doesn’t want to be away from Wakatoshi, not that he’d ever say that out loud.

He’s only out there in open waters for a moment before he feels a touch on his elbow. It makes his blood jump with instinctual fear. He turns and it’s the two business people who were talking to Wakatoshi. Oh, and Wakatoshi is there too. To anyone else, he would seem as stoic as ever, but to Sakusa he looks sheepish.

“Sakusa-senshu, isn’t it? We were just talking to Ushijima-senshu about opportunities in China. He speaks very highly of you. Are you considering switching teams any time soon?” 

He scowls under the black mask. Using him to try to get Wakatoshi on board with their team? Were they that obvious?

“I mean this in the best way, but if your organization would like to scout either of us, it is best that you do so through the proper avenues. Enjoy your night.” 

He gestures for his partner to join him and they walk off. 

“I apologize. They are quite good at what they do. I didn’t realize.” 

Sakusa looks at the room. He’s greeted enough people. “Would you like to go home now?” 

Wakatoshi nods even though he hasn’t even talked to anyone outside of those leeches. He probably should at least talk to his coach, but that seems very low on his priorities. Wakatoshi has been looking at him with a certain hunger since they met eyes. 

“Okay. You can go first.” 

▪️▪️▪️

“Do you think I could get away with murder?” 

The question is asked in the frozen food section of the grocery store. Wakatoshi is deciding between a bag of kale or a bag of mixed vegetables. The difference in price is fifty cents, but they’ve been trying to be more economical after getting their dog. After some intense internal debate, Wakatoshi places the kale in the cart. 

“I will support you with anything you are going through.”

“Even homicide?”

They turn into the meat section. “As long as it is not you or me you’re planning to kill; I don’t know why I wouldn’t support you. Also, I quite like my family so I would encourage you not to harm them either.”

Sakusa gasps. “Don’t ever say that. I love your parents so much. More than I love mine. Don’t say that to me ever again, I swear I will rip your fingernails off one by one.”

“Okay. May I know who the target is, then?” 

“Miya.” 

Wakatoshi hums, “What has he done this time? Killing him seems inadvisable to me. Wouldn’t you be one of the first people the police would contact?”

He stops his line of questioning to ask the butcher behind the counter for their order. Sakusa watches with barely disguised glee at the image of the fish getting its head hacked off. He doesn’t even have to think that hard to imagine Miya in its place.

They get the fresh fish and move on through the aisles. “Also, wouldn’t it be boring without a close friend on the team?”

“We are not friends.” 

“Right. _Best_ friends, my apologies.” 

“Shut your mouth,” Sakusa hisses, slapping Wakatoshi’s stupidly big bicep, “But to answer your question, he’s been sending me memes at an alarming rate. Look at this.”

The phone screen is a little blurry through the Ziploc bag Sakusa keeps his new phone in, but the sheer number of images in his and Miya’s text thread is obvious. The worst part is that even Sakusa knows it's all outdated. The white block text gives him flashbacks. 

“He is not very funny.”

“That’s what I thought, too.”

  
  


▪️▪️▪️

“Oh no.”

It’s the only warning Sakusa gets before Wakatoshi jumps off the couch and runs into their bedroom. They never move this fast in the house. He stays in the kitchen where he’s reading a volleyball magazine. He didn’t say anything until Wakatoshi ran back into the common space, dressed in his jersey.

“Forgot about practice?”

Wakatoshi nods, bouncing around to tie his shoelaces. He doesn’t even have his bag. Sakusa rolls his eyes and grabs it from where it’s hung on a door handle, fills it with protein bars and two water bottles. He hands it over.

The backpack and shoes are wrestled on. “How did you know it was about practice?”

“Was waiting to see when you’d realize.”

“How evil.”

He has just enough time to kiss Sakusa on the cheek and then bursts out the door. His heavy footsteps can be heard all the way down the carpeted hallway. Luckily, the dog didn’t wake up from the chaos. Its puppy snores can be heard from the couch. That’s endearing and all, but it’s one of the reasons they make it sleep in the living room and not on their bed. 

Sakusa walks out to the balcony just in time to see Wakatoshi running down the sidewalk, jumping over a small child that came out of nowhere. 

All in an Olympian’s day’s work.

▪️▪️▪️

He enjoys the sunshine on the balcony a little while longer before walking back into the living room. Wakatoshi left his phone on the couch, still open on YouTube.

_Ten Ways to Make This Anniversary the Best One Yet! | Tips on Preparing for the Proposal_

Oh. 

▪️▪️▪️

So, apparently, he’s supposed to go about his life acting like he doesn’t know his partner is going to propose to him. It helps that he’s already got piss-poor conversation skills. It’s not obvious to his co-workers that he’s going through it right now. It’s not obvious to his parents, when they come into the city and demand he have lunch with them. Wakatoshi isn’t very good at reading people and Sakusa is amazing at hiding his feelings, so thankfully it’s not obvious to him either.

They’re fine, on all other counts. More than fine. Right now, he feels fantastic. In fact, he can’t imagine anywhere else he’d rather be than kneeling on the bed with his face shoved into the pillow, getting railed from behind. 

It’s somewhere between their third and fourth round, he thanks their athletic stamina, and Sakusa’s head is more empty than it's been since before he saw that video title. All he registers is the way the bed creaks, the way Wakatoshi grunts, and the vague appreciation for marathon sex. 

They don’t do this often. Most of the time, they’re more than happy just enjoying each other’s presence. Sometimes they go to the park, sometimes they go to the gym. Right now, though, they’re making up for two weeks of abstinence. No particular reason, just a buildup of tension that needed addressing. 

Wakatoshi’s big, rough hands push down the curve of Sakusa’s back, making him arch deeper. 

“You’re beautiful.” 

Sakusa sighs. Wakatoshi’s bedroom talk will always be safe-for-work. They’ve tried everything. They’ve watched tutorials. They’ve watched porn. He can’t get his partner to say “cock” nor can he get him to say “fuck” nor can he get him to whisper something filthy in his ear with that deliciously deep voice of his. All he wants is for Wakatoshi to tell him he feels good without saying _your anus is like sinking into an onsen._

Yeah, so, no more of that. They stick to Wakatoshi's script more often than not.

“You’re more beautiful.” 

“No, I think you’re more beautiful.” Wakatoshi pulls out, slippery, and flips Sakusa’s a hundred and ninety-two centimeter body over onto his back. He pushes back in. 

“I think,” Sakusa forces out, breath getting bouncy as Wakatoshi picks up speed, “You’re pretty.” 

“Hn.” 

“You’re— ohrightthere. You’re so… handsome.”

“Hn.” 

Sakusa leaves it at that, wrapping his legs and arms around Wakatoshi’s broad body. They both finish, one after another, and Sakusa bears the brunt of Wakatoshi’s mass. He could crush the average human like this. Luckily, Sakusa is not just anyone. Maybe that’s why he’s about to be proposed to.

“Thank you.” 

“For fuck’s sake.”

▪️▪️▪️

He can't gets his mind off of the glaring fact that sometime between now and, well, death and eternal nothingness, he could end up being someone’s husband. 

The thing is, Sakusa wasn’t even sure how he got himself into this mess of romance in the first place. He should’ve made a spreadsheet and tracked this bullshit; that way, he would’ve been able to figure out when along the way they became Sakusa-and-Ushijima and not their own separate people. 

“Friends” will ask him how his partner is, before they ask how he is. Motoya got mad at him once time for showing up to brunch without Wakatoshi in tow, even though Wakatoshi wasn't explicitly invited. The two of them let go of the “boyfriend” title long ago when it started to feel too immature for how they felt. They _live_ together for almost half of the year. They have a baby— it’s the dog, but that’s the best they’re going to get in Japan for who knows how long.

All of this isn’t to say he isn’t uncomfortable with the fact, though. It makes his stomach roll, makes him want no one to ever talk to him again. He wants to climb Mount Fuji and live out the rest of his days in pure solitude. Every time Wakatoshi should try to climb the mountain to follow him, Sakusa will throw barrels down at him like Donkey Kong.

How does anyone on earth want an endgame with the living embodiment of _Don’t touch me, or I’ll break your arm._ Wakatoshi is a dreamboat, he’s accidentally funny in all the best ways, and he minds his business. He keeps himself so clean, but he never throws anything out if he isn’t sure whether Sakusa wants to keep it or not. He softens up for Sakusa and Sakusa only, which does wonders for his horrible, messy ego. He never pities Sakusa. Never. 

But marriage. Sakusa walks into the pet store and out of the blistering cold, immediately setting off to the dog section. They need Christmas presents for it, and Wakatoshi watched a video about a toy that holds peanut butter so that’s the mission he’s been sent on today.

He needs to predict how it’s going to go so he isn’t caught off guard. Something bad will probably happen if that’s the case. It’s been haunting him for three days already. Would it be volleyball related? Would he propose in public? Would it be over a quiet, candlelit dinner at the place Sakusa really likes in Ginza? With balloons, with a gimmicky tee shirt, with sky typing, with a loudspeaker, with Morse Code, with a sign?

Fuck. He was losing his mind. He grabbed the toy and two tug ropes. The dog was growing faster than they expected and it was destroying all of its toys. He starts walking to the cashier but stops and grabs a couple dog cookies. Oh, and winter booties, they’d forgotten all about those. Do they need more wet food? Gag. Wakatoshi can buy that. 

He needs to calm down. He hates when his mind moves this fast. He does his best work with peace of mind. He’s not going to figure it out if he keeps jumping all over the place, especially considering none of the options he just considered make sense at all for them. 

He can’t let Wakatoshi win.

▪️▪️▪️

Sometimes, believe it or not, Sakusa and Wakatoshi can have fun. Only sometimes; can’t have too much or else it’s just weird. Sometimes, and you wouldn’t be able to find a person on earth who knew this outside of their condo, they liked to dance. 

They’re really bad at dancing, as one should expect of two six-foot-something grown men. Wakatoshi moves like a white dad at a barbecue and Sakusa moves like a blow-up dancing noodle at a used car dealership. They play some Japanese R&B from Sakusa’s Spotify playlist (curated on the computer, of course) and slide around the fluffy carpet, jerking with the saxophone that croons through the surround-sound system. 

Sometimes they sing along, sometimes they don’t. Tonight they’re just enjoying the music. Wakatoshi has the dog in his arms, dancing with it while it playfully bites at his hands and tries to lick his face. 

Sakusa comes closer and the dog yips as they softly sandwich it between them. It’s so happy it doesn’t know what to do with itself. It makes both of them laugh.

“Let the poor thing down, it’s going to piss itself.” 

Wakatoshi smiles and sets it on the floor. It takes off running through the condo, through their legs, in and out of the bathroom, tail wagging like a bat out of hell. Sakusa elects to ignore it for now, wrapping his arms around Wakatoshi’s waist. 

They move together to the beat the best they can, which is to say horribly. They step on each other’s feet, and neither of them really knows how to grind on the other. The song kind of sucks, but he can’t be bothered to change it. He’s too preoccupied with the way Wakatoshi is boring holes into his face with a stare powerful enough to knock over a building. 

“Do I have something on my face?” Sakusa asks, with the bitchiest voice he can muster. 

“No. Happy anniversary, Kiyoomi.” 

Sakusa says it back, but there’s something he’s forgetting right now. It itches at the back of his mind, but he tries to push it away. He doesn’t want to be distant tonight; he wants to be out of his head for just one day to make sure Wakatoshi knows he’s having a good night. He woke up in the morning to miso soup and grilled fish. They did their mandatory exercises together, as prescribed by their team trainers. All in all, the day was much like most, except that they exchanged gifts after dessert. 

Sakusa got Wakatoshi a more comfortable pair of wireless headphones that could connect to the television so he didn’t have to strain his eyes with his phone screen.

Wakatoshi got Sakusa a sturdy phone case and three new puzzles. It nearly brings tears to his eyes. It doesn’t, nothing can, but it’s a near thing.

And that’s how they got where they are, tipsy on wine and swaying together under the high ceilings of their home.

“Do you want another glass, ’Toshi?” Sakusa nods to the counter where half the bottle of red is waiting to be finished. 

“Yes, please.” 

Sakusa turns around and walks the short distance to the kitchen counter, sliding the wine glasses across the marble, “You know, this one isn’t half bad. I normally don’t like anything out of that wretched supermarket selection, but you picked—”

The glasses end up on the floor, leaking puddles of dark red into the white rug. No. This isn't happening.

“What are you doing.” 

Wakatoshi smiles up at him from where he’s knelt on the floor, “I thought this position was common knowledge.” There’s a small box in his hand, his elbow resting on the knee that’s propped up. This is what Sakusa had forgotten about. How could he have let it slip his mind?

“Wakatoshi.”

“Kiyoomi.” 

“Wakatoshi.”

“Marry me, Kiyoomi.” 

Neither of them realize the dog is back in the living room until they hear it a tongue lapping at liquid. 

“Tell it to stop!” Sakusa yells, watching, frozen, as their puppy tries to drink the alcohol soaked into the carpet. 

“Okay,” Wakatoshi says, placing the ring box on the floor. He takes the dog in his hands and pulls it away from the mess, “Stop.”

Sakusa finally unshocks himself and starts moving, “No, you big, dumb baboon, we have to take it to the vet now. Go take it down to the car. I can’t believe this.” He scrambles for his phone, presses the pet hospital’s number that’s on speed dial. 

Wakatoshi finally picks up the pace, something must have clicked in that thick head of his, because he isn’t in the apartment anymore. The door is wide open when Sakusa runs through it after him, but at least he remembers to close it. 

▪️▪️▪️

The veterinarians take the puppy out of Wakatoshi’s massive arms and bring it into another room. The secretary takes all the information he can, and looks at them weird when they say the dog doesn’t have a name. 

Soon enough, they’re left alone in the waiting room. It’s quiet at two in the morning with the occasional sound of cars driving by on the ever-busy Tokyo streets. Wakatoshi rubs Sakusa’s thigh comfortingly, putting them just close enough that it wouldn’t raise eyebrows if the workers come back out. 

“I won’t apologize for calling you a big, dumb baboon.” 

“I know.” 

It’s silent again for a moment. 

“I am sorry the puppy ruined your proposal, though.” 

Wakatoshi shakes his head, patting his leg in assurance, “I can always try again.” 

Ugh. This would’ve been so much easier if he could’ve just said yes in the heat of the moment. Instead, he now has hundreds of thoughts and doubts passing through his head, built up over the last week. Was this an omen? Was this a sign from the universe he should say no? He’d love to go back to an hour ago when his head was peacefully empty. 

“We can’t even get married.” 

“I know,” Wakatoshi says, as if he’s actually thought about all of this beforehand, “But it does not have to be a legal wedding. If it means something to us, that’s all that matters, is it not?” 

Sakusa makes a _tch_ sound. He probably got that line from that cursed YouTube tips videos. Or maybe he looked up something like, _my partner will definitely say no to my proposal, how do I convince them it’s not as scary as they think?_ “Wow. Look at you being philosophical.” 

Wakatoshi takes his hand off Sakusa’s thigh and starts picking at the lint of his own pajama pants instead. It’s a small thing, but it means his partner is nervous. He can't believe he's about to let Wakatoshi win this. Screw the universe and its potential warnings.

“But,” he starts, swallowing past every mean thing he would rather say, “I would love to be your husband. I guess. So. Yes. If we must.” 

“Oh. I am relieved.” He digs through his pocket and pulls out the same black velvet box, “Can I put this on your finger?” 

“If you think for a second I’m going to let myself be proposed to in a waiting room that smells like wet dog and kibble, then you're sleeping on the couch.” 

**Author's Note:**

> hello!  
> 1\. sakusa refers to himself in his head as sakusa because it felt more accurate somehow  
> 2\. yknow that clip of the IASIP cast dancing in paddys pub? ushijima is frank, sakusa is dee (normally sakusa would be dennis but in this case no one is watching)  
> 3\. the dog lives and they name it cyclone because it's a disaster  
> 4\. (edit) i wanted to clarify that i don't think ushijima is dumb - despite the flat earth thing - more like in my hc he's a very trusting person and doesn't expect bad intentions until they're right in front of him  
> 5\. long live ushisaku, the most underrated ship in the history of haikyuu
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ojirozs)


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